


Presents

by Ladycat



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike standing up, however, was not in the morning program at all and Giles couldn’t help but follow Spike’s progress as he slowly stalked the corner, eyes focused on something that must’ve moved occasionally, the way his head darted about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presents

The noise was so soft it was hardly noticeable. A soft scritch, an occasional scratch, a tiny click as if what created it was a tiny thing. Giles, intent on his paper, ignored it as much as he could. He’d become very successful at ignoring outside sounds so as to leave his concentration undisturbed. He’d had no choice, if he wanted to get anything done—and that was back when he was a student in England, let alone arriving in America to find things decidedly noisier and uncontrolled.

He turned the page, deftly folding it with a minimum of ruckus, as all good British newspaper readers could, regardless of what several transplanted Americans claimed.

“You just gonna ignore it, then?”

It would’ve been crass of him to look up, and really was _that_ the going rate for the museum anymore? It made him glad that as a former curator on good standing with the current curator, he’d never be charged if he wished a short visit. “You? I daresay I am.”

The snort he received was completely expected and right on cue. Spike standing up, however, was not in the morning program at all and Giles couldn’t help but follow Spike’s progress as he slowly stalked the corner, eyes focused on something that must’ve moved occasionally, the way his head darted about. Giles privately—and only privately—admitted that he loved to watch Spike like this: powerful, controlled, graceful as only an unthinking creature could be ...

“Spike! What are you _doing_!”

Extracting himself from a pile of older newspapers, Spike merely grinned as he cradled something against his chest. Something that was wiggling and mewing frantically, very unhappy about its new habitation. Giles, inured after decades in the occult, ten as Buffy’s Watcher, and three more as Spike’s lover, didn’t get worried yet. Not everything required worry to be the immediate response and, anyway, it was often tiring especially when it gained him nothing but an extra grey hair or two or a wrinkle. He had enough of both of those already.

“Here, now.” Spike’s voice dropped into a gentling croon, the same kind he used when Giles had strained another muscle and was sullenly hurting, or to Dawn who was a woman grown and certainly didn’t need anyone cooing at her when she was upset—though that stopped neither her nor Giles from enjoying the focused attention at all. They merely didn’t talk about it. “Easy now, poppet, stop your shaking. That’s right, there you are.”

Spike stroked the thing in his arm, carrying it over to Giles to reveal—a kitten. A tiny black kitten that probably would have been quite comfortable in the palm of Spike’s hand and, as it was, securely snuggled into the crook of Spike’s arm. It was trembling, the poor thing, obviously terrified as it looked up at Spike and then over to Giles with huge, luminous yellow eyes.

“She probably belongs to that ginger cat, that got run over a few days ago. Can’t be more’n a week old, my guess. There’s a hole near the piping in the back that needs looked at—she probably slipped in through there.” Spike’s voice is low and soft, no longer as soothing as his words were no longer directed at the cat, but still quiet. The kitten startled when Spike let his voice drop even further, crooning a soft melody, then stretched along Spike’s forearm with a tiny _mew?_ of confused affection.

“If you purr at her, she’ll think you’re her mother,” Giles commented. The kitten was adorable, its fur a tumble of jagged, untamed peeks, and so soft that Giles had to reach out and stroke it.

“That such a bad thing?”

Giles let his hand fall, sighing. “Spike. We are not adopting the kitten, as adorable as she is. We’re both of us gone for long stretches of time with very little warning and anyway, I refuse to be _that_ kind of stereotypical gay man.”

Spike’s eyes sparkled. “Didn’t realize one little kitten suddenly made us old, lonely women who only had cats for company. And I didn’t mean for _us_ , you selfish prat.” The insult was as fond and worn as _sweetheart_ would have been to different types of lovers. Giles heard it that way, anyway. “Was thinking of Dawn. She’s got that big old apartment Buffy’s got her in all by herself, and you know she’s hardly out except for classes and the library, and she needs out of that dusty tomb you’ve entrapped her in more than in it.”

“I did not entrap her into anything,” Giles snapped, the argument just as familiarly worn, each step already prescribed and lacking any kind of real emotion—except amusement. And possibly affection. “She became a brilliant student all on her own. In spite of Buffy, which is quite an accomplishment.”

“Well?” Spike pressed, ignoring the response—like he always did. Arguing with Spike was occasionally incredibly frustrating because he just didn’t respond. He was scritching the kitten underneath her jaw, a tiny mouth opening to show tiny teeth and a very pink little tongue, and not watching Giles at all.

Which meant he wanted this very much. Not just because he wanted to give Dawn a present, one she’d love—but because it would give him the perfect excuse as cat-sitter to be in her life just a little bit more. Giles had already gone through his own version of empty-nest with Buffy gallivanting across the globe to her immense enjoyment. She always came back to him, however, which eased the pain of it slightly. But for Spike, who always fell so hard for those he loved, to have Dawn just a few blocks away but so busy that she couldn’t make time for him even if she wanted to ...

“I think that’d be splendid,” Giles said, earning himself a slowly ecstatic kiss, the kitten squeaking as she was caught more closely against Spike’s body. “A hallow’een gift is perfectly appropriate.”

Watching as Spike ran around getting a basket for the kitten and his own protective gear, Giles smiled and reflected that it wasn’t Dawn who was receiving the real gift—nor was she the only eternal child in their little family. Spike had that role pegged rather firmly.


End file.
